


Making the Most of the Night

by j_marquis



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series, 悪魔城伝説 | Castlevania lll: Dracula's Curse
Genre: M/M, but now with added Grant, canon appropriate discussions of blood, loads of swearing, netflix series universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_marquis/pseuds/j_marquis
Summary: They found a traveler. Trevor found a friend. Grant found his chance.





	Making the Most of the Night

Sometimes, the people were worse than the demons.Trevor had disliked humans from the get-go, but Sypha wanted to help every single last bitching, shitting, bleeding, dying damned one of them. And Alucard, Adrian, whatever the stupid vampire wanted to call himself, he encouraged it. He encouraged her stopping their travels three, four times a day to say words for the dead and heal the dying. He said he was a doctor, like his mother. He said it was his job. Trevor thought he might be atoning for some kind of guilt brought on by his genocidal father. Well fucking good for him.

Trevor just wanted to sleep.

Sometimes, he managed, curled up in the small caravan they had, well, he had, stolen when they left Gresit, he'd nap while they doted over whatever lost soul they'd found on the road. The horse didn't care either, he was just happy to stop and eat the half snowed over grass on the side of the road. Trevor wondered sometimes if he related more to the horse than to either of his companions. The horse just wanted to eat, drink, shit and sleep. Trevor agreed. What a simple life the horse must lead. Even if the horse was stolen too.

They had stopped to help a bleeding man who had been walking back toward the wreckage of Targoviste. Back towards the demons, towards the cities of the dead and dying and the lost. Trevor leaned up against the caravan, watched them wrap his wounds, clean him, offer him food like they had enough to spare. The man was scrawny, all tight wired muscle under his sleeveless top, dark eyes clouded, his face dirty with a few days worth of scruff that tried to pass for a beard. Trevor wondered what he was doing, sleeveless in the winter, his boots so dirty they looked like an extension of the earth, covered in blood.

"Trevor?" Sypha called over.

"Yeah?"

"This is Grant. We're taking him with us for a while."

The man, Grant, raised his hand in something like a wave. "I, there's something in Targoviste. I need to go."

"It's your funeral." He climbed into the caravan, sitting down.

Grant followed him. He was quick, lithe, moved with a strange sort of elegance despite the bandages Sypha and Alucard had wrapped around his chest, his arm, his forehead. His black hair was thick, messy, it curled in an odd way around his jaw, and his skin was the deep, rich brown of someone who traveled the seas. Trevor couldn't really look away. It wasn't that Grant was attractive, he was, but it was something more. A quiet strength, a resolve, in those intensely dark eyes.

"What's so important in Targoviste that you're going to get eviscerated by the night horde to get it?"

Grant shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head on them. "My little sister. She was in a convent just north of there."

"She's dead, you know."

Grant didn't even wince. "I know. I want to give her a proper burial. She was a deeply religious kid, I know she'd want a Catholic burial."

Trevor grimaced. "Yeah, because it matters so much to your immortal soul where you are when the worms eat your fucking eyes."

"Well aren't you just a bleeding joy." Grant rolled his eyes.

"As bright and sunshiny as the rest of this godforsaken world." Trevor smiled at him, crooked and full of teeth.

Grant laughed. "You're a Belmont."

"What about it?"

"Coming out of exile to save us all? Or just saving your own ass?"

"Little of both."

Grant smiled. "You know, you're a cock, but I don't think you're so bad. And the others with you, they're good. Maybe if anyone could get through Targoviste, it's you guys."

"Yeah, and I guess you'll be there with us won't you?"

"Guess I will."

Trevor paused, a long moment, looking the man over. Maybe he was all looks and no brains. Probably. Explains a lot about how he ended up in the back of a cart with a drunk hunter, a girl, even if she was a magic user, and a petulant dhampir who wasn't quite out of his sullen teenager phase. Grant couldn't be the smartest in the shit heap. "You're a fucking moron."

"Maybe I am. But I'm here now, and there's no going back."

Grant fell asleep in the cart, his head lolled to Trevor's shoulder, his breathing deep, even.Trevor groaned, looked to Alucard and Sypha in the front of the cart, quietly talking, as they often did. Trevor had at some point wondered what they talked about. A few days into their trip he had decided he didn't care. They could be plotting his murder for all the fucks he gave. So instead he grabbed a blanket from their bedrolls and draped it over Grant to abate some of the cold. And if Trevor curled under the blanket too, caught some sleep, curled up to Grant, well, he wasn't going to make excuses. It was cold and Grant was hot.

He only realized he had fallen asleep when he was woken by Sypha's laughter.

"Yes?" He glared, sitting up.

"I didn't know you went in for men. I've had a chance all this time?" Alucard teased, looking between Trevor and Grant.

Apparently Trevor had fallen asleep curled around Grant, their heads tucked together, arms entangled around the blanket and each other. Like children, or lovers, sleeping their worries away.

"I might be in for men, but there is no way in hell you have a chance, vampire." He looked down at Grant, who was just beginning to wake. "And I go in for men and women both, in case you give a high flying fuck."

Grant looked around. "Where are we?"

"We're stopping here for the night." Alucard informed them. "We need to let the horse rest, and sleep ourselves. We'll reach town tomorrow, and I'm sure the night horde has taken over. We're too close to Targoviste for there to be much left of humanity."

"Is he always like this?" Grant asked.

"Like what?" Trevor grabbed their bedrolls, the last of their dried rabbit for dinner.

"Like Dracula himself crawled up his ass and died there."

"Oh. Yeah, that's normal."

Grant huffed, helped him start a fire. "Let me guess. You consider yourself the paragon of sanity in comparison."

"Yeah I don't know." He admitted, slow. "I just want this to be over so I can go back to drinking and fucking and waiting to die."

"Fucking joy." Grant was building a small fire to keep them from freezing in the night. "You might be the only decent conversationalist, but you're a fucking joy to be around."

"Yeah. I try."

"I hope you fuck better than you talk."

Trevor winked. "Only one way to find out."

"Not here." Grant stipulated. "In town. Where high lord killjoy and his ice queen girlfriend can't hear."

"You've got yourself a deal."

Trevor had no idea what he was getting himself into. But if he was going to die in Targoviste, if Grant was going to die in Targoviste, he was getting laid first.

**Author's Note:**

> And in the next chapter, smut.
> 
> aftepes.tumblr.com


End file.
